


What the Water Gave Me

by glowstick_of_destiny



Series: Seven Devils [4]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 23:34:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3359420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowstick_of_destiny/pseuds/glowstick_of_destiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most people would probably mark the beginning as when Jim stopped slamming Oswald into walls every time they hung out. Or when they started fucking.  But neither’s quite right.</p><p>When they’re lying in cheap motel sheets and, in a moment of post-coital lunacy, Jim says "Do you want to get dinner sometime?" That's when it starts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blank Space

**Author's Note:**

> Something cute for Valentine's Day.
> 
> Trope bingo: how they first got together and how they fell for each other.

Most people would probably mark the beginning as when Jim stopped slamming Oswald into walls every time they hung out. Or when they started fucking. But neither’s quite right. 

When they’re lying in cheap motel sheets and, in a moment of post-coital lunacy, Jim says "Do you want to get dinner sometime?" That's when it starts. 

And that should be the end of it. Oswald should look at him like he's crazy, because he is, and say nothing, and leave him to get out of bed and dress quickly and pretend he never said a fucking word. But he doesn't. 

He turns to look at Jim, piercing gaze formidable as ever despite the fact that he's naked and has a sizable lovebite on his collarbone. "In what capacity?" he says, very carefully. 

Jim could backpedal. Because that's an open invitation to do so. Because he knows Oswald has killed people. Knows he's gonna kill again, soon probably. Knows he doesn't even feel bad about it. He shouldn't be giving the guy the time of day, much less fucking him. Getting emotionally invested-- or worse, _telling_ Oswald that he's gotten emotionally invested-- should definitely be off-limits. If Jim had any common sense, any self-preservation instincts, he'd pick up his shit and run, never look back. 

Well, Harvey's always telling him he's not doing so hot in either of those departments. 

"As a date." 

It's almost worth it just to see Oswald's eyes go saucer-wide. Almost. Maybe not quite worth risking the entire tenuous whatever it is they've got, but Jim doesn't really process that that's what's at stake here until the words are out, and isn't that the way it always goes with him running his mouth? 

Oswald still hasn't said anything. 

Well, shit. Maybe it is time to backpedal. 

"Forget it. It's a stupid idea." Jim sits up, throws one leg over the side of the bed. The last thing he wants is to be trapped in this shithole of a room with his latest bad decision. 

Oswald grabs his arm before he gets very far. "No." Jim can see him take a deep breath before he goes on. "I'd like that. I was trying to think where we might actually be able to go out for dinner discretely, rather than simply ordering takeout, and I think I know just the place. If you're amenable to the spot, of course." 

At which point Jim starts grinning like a complete idiot, and then climbs over until he's straddling Oswald's hips. "I have a feeling I'm going to be." 

Oswald snorts, but then pulls him down into a kiss. 

Jim’s last fully-formed thought is that maybe there’s something to be said for bouts of sex-induced lunacy after all. 


	2. Begin Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A second life, a second chance, made possible by one Jim Gordon. Surely it's only natural that he have some feelings about the matter. That he might entertain, however briefly, the notion that this man could be a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now back to your regularly scheduled angst and gunshot wounds. 
> 
> So this story's going to switch back and forth from Jim's POV to Oswald's, and back and forth in time a bit. If Jim's narrating, it's how they actually started going on dates and became a couple. If Oswald is, it's how they became friends, then friends with benefits (these bits come first chronologically).

Epiphany when he's about to die, lying in that warehouse under the weight of a death sentence for a life that's meant nothing. Crystalization, when he's staring down the barrel of the gun on a cold, cold Gotham afternoon, cogs spinning and whirring faster than his tongue can keep up with as an insane idea coagulates into a plan. Rebirth as he emerges from the water like a wild animal from the womb, barely able to walk between his bad leg and the numbness in all his limbs, but ready to lash out with teeth and claws at anything that comes near. 

A second life, a second chance, made possible by one Jim Gordon. Surely it's only natural that he have some feelings about the matter. That he might entertain, however briefly, the notion that this man could be a friend. 

He's been in Gotham long enough to realize that here, anything is possible. Usually that means that you should expect the worst, and certainly prepare for it, because if it's terrible and physically possible, it's probably going to happen in Gotham. But every once in a while, little threads of incredibly unlikely, but spectacularly lucky happenstances slip through, as well. 

Which is to say that he thinks he should at least try to befriend Jim Gordon. The trouble is, aside from Jim's distaste for corruption in general and the mob in particular, which doesn't place Oswald very high on his list if most eligible new friends, that Oswald is not very familiar with how to go about creating a friendship arrangement. Sure, he's very clever-- it's not immodesty; it's the truth-- but he doesn't have very much experience with that sort of thing. 

As nearly as he can tell, the entire enterprise seems to be predicated upon honestly and a series of acts done for the benefit of the other party without any expectation of reciprocation. Neither of which is really his modus operandi. 

But then he gets the call from Jim. 

No greeting, just leads with "Sure could use a friend right now." His words slurring a little. From alcohol? From blood loss? It's one in the afternoon, so the latter's more likely. "I'm at the precinct parking lot." The sound of gunfire, and then the call disconnects. 

At which point Oswald is struck with the first pang of guilt since he got back to Gotham. 

He's no good to Jim right now. Not in person. No car, and it sounds like what Jim needs right now is a fast getaway. And he's bleeding, and god help him, Oswald really isn't sure if he can carry him. Not with his leg. He's not even going to be much use shooting back at whoever did the original damage. 

What he needs is a professional. He dials Montoya as quickly as he can. 

And then he sits back, pours some brandy for his nerves, thinks better of drinking it when Maroni or Falcone or Jim could call at any moment, empties the contents of the tumbler into the nearest houseplant. And then he prays; and then he waits. 


End file.
